Stolen Heaven
by Celesti Rivers
Summary: "Teresa grabs his hand in one swift, confident move and sits back in her seat with a small smile on her soft features. At first, Newt stiffens at the contact, but seeing the content look on her face makes him relax and sit back too. Because her company isn't all that bad." Newt has a void in his heart that only his memories can fill. Unfortunately, he doesn't have any of those.


**So, I read _Remember Me_ by AleyaContraire and now I ship Tewt. Oops.**

 **WARNING: mentions of (attempted) suicide. Because Newt.**

* * *

 _Stolen Heaven_

* * *

One hand at a time. One foot at a time. Up he went.

His muscles burned under the pressure, and he half-hoped that the ivy would break. Then, at least, he wouldn't have to build up the courage to jump.

Newt looked over his shoulder, his head spinning as he estimated how high up he was. Or maybe the spinning was because he hadn't had water or food since breakfast, and now it was definitely in the afternoon.

He should have waited longer. Done it when it was too close to the closing of the Doors that no one would stumble upon him.

But he was already halfway up, and he wasn't turning back. Not when he felt this inexplicable, horrible _depression_.

Did the other Gladers feel that way? Newt didn't think so. They all smiled and cheered, and he did too, but not as much as they did. Whatever he was feeling - the incessant sadness - wasn't just because the looming walls of the Maze haunted his dreams. He thought - he _knew_ , felt it in his bones - that there was something _more_.

Something lost with his memories. Something that he yearned to discover, but he never would, and that thought alone drove him _mad_.

* * *

The first time Newt sees her, she is being escorted by four guards.

He is sitting with Minho and Alby, eating his sandwich in the bustling, white cafeteria when the horde of guards passing by the glass wall catches his attention. And there, in the middle of it all, is a slight, small girl with pitch black hair. Her skin is pale - that much Newt can see past the guards - but not much more. Maybe she is his age - twelve - perhaps Minho's.

"There goes one of the prodigies," Minho grumbles.

Newt looks back at him in surprise. "You know her?" he asks.

"What? You don't remember her?" Alby asks in turn. "From the original testing?"

"She was the one that gave us the group scenario problems," Minho elaborates.

"But - she's... she's only our age," Newt says.

"Like I said - prodigy," Minho repeats. "Her and a few other kids. They're always elsewhere doing God knows what trials for WICKED."

Alby notices the far-off glaze in Newt's eyes and softly kicks him in the shin under the table. Newt meets his eyes and sees a look of warning in them.

* * *

The second time Newt sees her, a whole year has passed and she is alone and crying.

This time, he recognizes her immediately.

She is sitting on some chairs in the white hallway, and Newt cautiously sits on the one next to her. Her crying isn't obvious. The only reason he notices is because the tears almost seem to shine on her white skin.

"Er, I don't really know you, but..." Newt starts nervously. "You wanna talk?"

She looks at him with those startling blue eyes wide in surprise. As if she doesn't expect anyone to be there for her to lean on. As if she hasn't had someone to lean on in a long time.

"I'm Newt," he says, "if that makes it easier for you, to, ya know... talk. Talking helps when you're sad, is all I'm saying."

 _Way to bloody ramble_ , Newt thinks to himself.

"Teresa," she replies quietly. "And... I don't think it's anything I can talk about. But can you stay with me? I'd like some company."

Newt smiles. "Sure, I can stay with you."

Then, she surprises him even more. Teresa grabs his hand in one swift, confident move and sits back in her seat with a small smile on her soft features. At first, Newt stiffens at the contact, but seeing the content look on her face makes him relax and sit back too.

Because her company isn't all that bad.

* * *

He spends more time with Teresa after that. No longer alone, of course - there's always at least one guard watching her back. It's as if they think he will hurt her. As if he has a reason to hurt her.

But he can't imagine ever doing that.

Sometimes they talk about silly things - problems from tests he couldn't solve, suspicions that Gally is cheating at poker - and sometimes they just sit in complete silence, hand-in-hand, enjoying the mere presence of each other.

There is something calming about Teresa. Newt doesn't quite know what it is, but she can make him happy in a content, relaxed way and happy in an exciting way.

A few days after his fourteenth birthday, she makes him happy in the exciting way.

There are two guards trailing behind them as they walk down a hallway together in silence. Newt has learned to ignore their presence, but it still feels a little weird. He always has that strange, hairs-on-end feeling that someone is watching him when the guards are around, and he thinks Teresa does, too.

Despite that feeling, though, she does something surprising.

One of the guards tells her they have to go, and she, more or less, ignores him. Instead, Teresa lets go of Newt's hand and looks up at him with a bright smile before cupping his cheek with her hand and leaning forward to kiss him, not giving a care in the world even when the guard clears his throat awkwardly.

He kisses her back - nervously, at first - placing a cautious hand on her waist, but it feels nice. Just like holding her hand and sitting with her in silence. Just like talking math problems with her.

Teresa feels really, really nice.

They pull apart, but Teresa no longer has the same bright smile on her face. Her brow is furrowed slightly and she is nervously biting down on her lip.

"I'll, uh, see you next week, then," Newt stammers.

She strains a smile as she meets his eye and says, "Right. Next week."

"Goodbye, Teresa."

"Goodbye, Newt."

It is a bigger farewell than Newt will ever know.

* * *

 _Remember, remember, remember, JUST BUGGIN' REMEMBER!_

Newt took a break and rested his forehead on the stone wall of the Maze with a frustrated groan. He knew with absolute certainty that there was a memory at the back of his head - on the tip of his tongue - and he _begged_ himself to remember. He just wanted to know that _one_ thing that was leaving a big, fat hole in his heart. Just _one sodding thing_.

He looked over his shoulder to see how far up he had climbed. _Should be high enough_ , Newt decided.

This was where he'd make his final stand. He couldn't live with that emptiness in his heart. A strange emptiness that he couldn't replace no matter how hard he tried. Newt had always felt this emptiness, from day one, and he thought that maybe if he ran the Maze, if he had the hope of finding a way out, if he could focus on putting one foot in front of the other - then maybe, just maybe, the void would disappear.

But it didn't, and Newt was at his wit's end with dealing with it. He wasn't going to be some depressed lab rat anymore. He would jump, there would be a sickening crack, and by the time the Doors closed, the Grievers would have him.

And he would be free of that damn void once and for all.

 _All right, on the count of three_ , Newt thought to himself. _One, two -_

"Ahh!"

The ivy snapped.

It surprised him, to not be in control, and he suddenly felt his heart racing at the thought of meeting death sooner than he had intended. Somehow, he managed to rearrange his body so he wouldn't land on his head. Perhaps it was a survival instinct kicking in, telling him that it wasn't quite his time to die.

When he finally landed on the stone floor of the Maze, there _was_ a sickening crack - but it wasn't from his skull. His leg buckled under him as he heard - _felt_ \- something cracking in his ankle. Somehow, his brain managed to have one clear, stupid, _useless_ thought.

 _Broken talus, fractured lower fibula._

He held his breath to keep from screaming, but when he finally felt his vision going blurry, Newt breathed out a loud, piercing cry of pain. And then, a cry of absolute frustration. Both echoed through the halls of the Maze, the sound scratching at his ears like a painful reminder that _he couldn't even kill himself right_.

Newt dragged himself to the wall that he had climbed and leaned against it with another groan of pain, his injured leg outstretched before him. This could be another way to go. He could just wait for the Doors to close, the Grievers to get him. He got injured running. It happened to the best of Runners.

As his leg started to go numb, Newt heard a scuttling along the floor of the Maze. His eyes found the damned Beetle Blade, stopping a few feet away from him and peering at him with its red, flashing light. The word _WICKED_ emblazoned on its side like a brand.

"Yeah, that's right, tell those shucking Grievers where I am," Newt grumbled at it. "See what you damn people did to me? Why can't I just bloody remember, huh?"

The Beetle Blade stayed in its spot for a few silent seconds before scurrying away from him. Newt scoffed and leaned his head back on the wall behind him.

Well, if death wanted him to wait, then he would wait.

* * *

An hour later, Newt heard the footsteps.

He turned his head towards the sound and widened his eyes as he saw who had rounded the corner and was now rushing towards him.

 _Alby._

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Newt exclaimed. "You're no Runner!"

"Heard your damn crying all the way in the Glade," Alby explained as he knelt next to his younger friend. "Shuck it, man. What'd you do?"

"What about your oh-so-special rules, shank?" Newt asked in a grumble. "'Never go outside the Glade.'"

Alby shook his head and smiled faintly. "We've got plenty of time 'til the Doors close," he said as he reached out an arm to help Newt up. "So, what happened?"

Newt stood up on his good leg and put an arm across Alby's shoulders. "Tripped," he said. Alby wasn't supposed to come. No one was supposed to find him. _Ever._

"All that crying for a little sprain?" Alby asked.

"It's broken, I think," Newt replied, avoiding Alby's gaze.

"Broken? How the shuck did you break your ankle tripping?" Alby asked in shock as the pair limped down the hallway of the Maze. "The floor is _flat_!"

Newt only shrugged. He didn't think he could give Alby a very believable excuse.

Alby suddenly stopped walking and yanked Newt backwards. The younger boy looked at him in annoyance.

"Some way to treat the bloody injured," Newt grumbled.

"You think I'm stupid, shank?" Alby asked. "I'm not. I see how shucking _forced_ your laughter is. Think I don't know why you wanted to be a Runner?"

Newt didn't reply.

"You can't just call it quits, Newt," Alby continued. "We _will_ find a way out, all right? But you've gotta keep working. You've gotta find happiness where you can, and you've gotta have hope."

Newt looked away from Alby as he felt the guilty tears stinging his eyes. Alby was right. How could he have been so selfish?

"Do you ever have this empty feeling?" Newt asked quietly. "It's always there for me. No amount of laughing or running or joking ever fills it. Even when I'm doing something that's supposed to distract me, I always have that emptiness hangin' over my head."

He looked up and met Alby's eyes again. The older boy was frowning now, his mind probably trying to think if there was anything he could say that wouldn't sound like forced sympathy.

But how can you sympathize with anyone when you don't have memories?

"I just wanted to get rid of the emptiness," Newt choked out through a sob as tears started to fall down his cheeks.

He felt Alby push him forward gently and the two started walking again as Alby said, "You will, man. One day, all of this will make a hell of a lot of sense. But you gotta be alive to see that day, all right? Ain't no fifteen year-old shank gonna kill himself under my watch."

Newt nodded and wiped at his face with his free hand. "Yeah. Good that."

* * *

The familiar, echoing boom filled the air and dissipated into silence, announcing the arrival of the Box. Newt met Alby's worried gaze, his heart racing. Things had been weird since Thomas had arrived, and he had a feeling that they were about to get weirder.

They pulled the doors to the Box open, and once the dust had cleared, Newt leaned forward to get a look inside it.

His eyes widened in shock as he breathed out, "Holy..." and looked around frantically.

He could hear Alby's surprise, the chorus of questions from the other Gladers, the pushing, shoving, _confusion_. He heard Alby talking to Thomas, asking him if he knew anything, but Newt was fixated on the sight before him. He would look around occasionally to make sure that he was still in the Glade and not an _alternate shucking universe_.

Finally, Alby yelled, "You shanks shut up!" He looked over at Newt and added, "Tell 'em, Newt."

Newt looked down into the Box one more time, his eyes taking in the form that was lying there. Pale, pale skin. Pitch black hair. Her eyes were closed, but Newt swore on his life that if she opened them, they would be a startling blue.

"It's a girl."

And, for the first time in two, long years, the void in Newt's heart disappeared.

* * *

 **Please review because it's the nice, wonderful thing to do ;)**

 **(And if you want more TMR fanfiction, check out my oneshot/drabble collection, titled _Remembering_ , that features the memories of different Immunes post-TDC!)**


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